night terrors
I haven't had something like this happen to me in quite a while. Apparently it's a pretty common phenomenon.
I "woke up" because I heard who I thought was my janitor knocking on my door. I assumed he was here to finish my cabinets, so I tried to get up but ended up fumbling around. Meanwhile, heard him letting himself in. I started to get the feeling that it wasn't my janitor, and it sounded like two guys, so I rush out into the hallway. There's a lot of confusion and I can't see who it is who just came through the door. Well, I ended up like a centimeter away from this man, staring at his neck, but I still couldn't see who it was because I couldn't see his face and I was paralyzed.
Somewhere at this point, my mind came to the realization, "Hello! Dreamland!" and I was instantly transported back to my bed. Weird.
No, it got weirder.
My bedroom door was ajar. (No it's not. It's a door.) Out in the hall it was very windy. "That's strange," I thought, because I didn't leave any windows open last night. So I decided I better investigate and got up, uh, again. Only, the wind is so strong, I couldn't open the door any further, and I struggled with it for a long time. When I finally got out into the hall, all my stuff is gone. I'd been robbed. Damn it.
Only once again, I blink, and I'm still laying in my bed. By this point I'm a little paranoid, so I get up again, and look out the door, and everything's right where it should be, with no intruders. Phew.
Except when I blink again, I'm magically transported back into my bed!
WHAT THE HECK?
This is getting ridiculous, I was thinking. Exactly how do I get out of this weird recursive dream loop? I tried one more time, and figured, I can't be dreaming this time, because I felt all the aches and pains of my aging joints and muscles that getting out of bed is starting to produce in me these days. So, good, I'm awake this time.
No such luck. It seems my dreams have found a way to recreate even those subtle nuances of old age. Yay. And there I was, back in my bed. Screw it, I decided. I'm not playing this stupid game. There I was in bed, presumably asleep, which is what I want to be in the first place, and there I would stay.
But damn, you know. I just had to lay there wondering, how will I ever know if I escaped that dream? I mean, for all I know, before I hit "post" on this journal, I'll blink, and find myself right back in my bed.
Of course, that may not necessarily be a bad thing. Doomed to sleep for all eternity.
Last night, John from the Grackles gave me a great compliment. He told me about a guy named Chris Peterson (I think?) who took pictures of bands in Seattle in the 90s. When the Seattle scene became big and all those bands became famous, so did he. Anyway, John tells me he thinks of me as the Chris Peterson of Chicago. Wow.
listening to: new black.
in my sink: baking sheet, the grilling utensils, 3 cups, some spoons, i think a plate.
I "woke up" because I heard who I thought was my janitor knocking on my door. I assumed he was here to finish my cabinets, so I tried to get up but ended up fumbling around. Meanwhile, heard him letting himself in. I started to get the feeling that it wasn't my janitor, and it sounded like two guys, so I rush out into the hallway. There's a lot of confusion and I can't see who it is who just came through the door. Well, I ended up like a centimeter away from this man, staring at his neck, but I still couldn't see who it was because I couldn't see his face and I was paralyzed.
Somewhere at this point, my mind came to the realization, "Hello! Dreamland!" and I was instantly transported back to my bed. Weird.
No, it got weirder.
My bedroom door was ajar. (No it's not. It's a door.) Out in the hall it was very windy. "That's strange," I thought, because I didn't leave any windows open last night. So I decided I better investigate and got up, uh, again. Only, the wind is so strong, I couldn't open the door any further, and I struggled with it for a long time. When I finally got out into the hall, all my stuff is gone. I'd been robbed. Damn it.
Only once again, I blink, and I'm still laying in my bed. By this point I'm a little paranoid, so I get up again, and look out the door, and everything's right where it should be, with no intruders. Phew.
Except when I blink again, I'm magically transported back into my bed!
WHAT THE HECK?
This is getting ridiculous, I was thinking. Exactly how do I get out of this weird recursive dream loop? I tried one more time, and figured, I can't be dreaming this time, because I felt all the aches and pains of my aging joints and muscles that getting out of bed is starting to produce in me these days. So, good, I'm awake this time.
No such luck. It seems my dreams have found a way to recreate even those subtle nuances of old age. Yay. And there I was, back in my bed. Screw it, I decided. I'm not playing this stupid game. There I was in bed, presumably asleep, which is what I want to be in the first place, and there I would stay.
But damn, you know. I just had to lay there wondering, how will I ever know if I escaped that dream? I mean, for all I know, before I hit "post" on this journal, I'll blink, and find myself right back in my bed.
Of course, that may not necessarily be a bad thing. Doomed to sleep for all eternity.
Last night, John from the Grackles gave me a great compliment. He told me about a guy named Chris Peterson (I think?) who took pictures of bands in Seattle in the 90s. When the Seattle scene became big and all those bands became famous, so did he. Anyway, John tells me he thinks of me as the Chris Peterson of Chicago. Wow.
listening to: new black.
in my sink: baking sheet, the grilling utensils, 3 cups, some spoons, i think a plate.
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